


Of Hunters, Landens and Blood

by orphan_account



Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 21:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Samuel and Dean Winchester are two young landen men who were born in the Shalador reserves, but fled when the uprisings started after the violent, psychic Witch storm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Hunters, Landens and Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShadowDarkKitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowDarkKitten/gifts).



> I guess if you're into SuperWhoLock/SuperLock, you can think of this as a companion to my Black Jewels/Sherlock story; Of Blood and Detectives.

Samuel and Dean Winchester was just a pair of normal, landen brothers who had lived in a landen village in Shalador with their parents.  
Then the violent Witch storm passed by, killing most of the Blood.  
It became an uprising, and their mother was killed in one of the Witch-fires started by one of the Lighter-Jeweled Blood.

Samuel was just six months old, and Dean just short of five years old. When seeing the house on fire, their father had abandoned those he fought with and ran home to see if there was anything - or anyone - that could be salvaged.  
He managed to save his sons, but it was too late for his wife.

John Winchester realized they had to leave before he or his sons died. So they relocated. And they relocated. And relocated.  
Years went by in this manner. The boys never had a chance to find any friends, and always felt like outsiders.

Because of this, they never heard of Shaldor's Lady until many, many years later. Dean never wondered how things might have been if they had stayed in the village; he remembered little and what he remembered was not good to say the least.   
Sam wondered. When they left, he was so young he had no memories of the village.  
He had never been a part of the uprisings, and too young to see and be able to comprehend what he might have seen in the eyes of the ones they passed as Dean carried him out of the village, followed a few minutes later by their father. 

No one in the village knew what had happened to them, and no one had seen them run away, as they were all caught up fighting.  
It was only natural for the remaining villagers to assume they had died. When it was time to bury the villagers who was killed, there had been very few who had still been whole and recognizable; they were either burned beyond recognition, were missing limbs, or they found nothing but limbs.  
That someone was left at all was a miracle. 

People had died in that violently unleashed storm, and even more had died in the uprisings.  
The landens had died, but the Blood had died as well. After all, the landens knew how to use a tool as a weapon, for they were already used with the tools. The Blood were dependant of their reservoir, and when that was used to kill and shield, they were free game; easy to kill because they did not know to fight otherwise.  
John had taken advantage of that, just as everyone else. It wasn’t a proud thing for any of them, but they did what they had to do in order to survive and spare what remained of their families, belongings and village.   
John had fought for his wife and young children, and ran in order to save his sons when all hope was fading. He had to save the only ones he had left.

It soon turned out John wasn’t cut out for raising two boys without help. He often went away, leaving the responsibility of Sam to Dean or, if he was very lucky, a kind man or woman in the village they were staying in. It wasn’t easy though. Because of the psychic storm, everyone was struggling, Blood as well as landens. And because they were constantly coming and leaving, it was hard to find someone to trust and someone who was willing to trust them in return. 

Ellen and Joanna Beth Harvelle were two people they could trust. Running a tavern called “Roadhouse” with a friend of theirs called Ash (he’s never said what the rest of the name is, but no one cares to ask him), and they took care of the brothers for the short time they stayed in that village. Ellen’s husband had once been a close friend of John’s, until he died fighting the guards who worked for the bitch-Queen that had ruled the village before the storm had come and killed her and her court, apart from a couple of guards who had been forced into service. 

As the family continued to relocate, they learned that their village was far from the only one that had been touched by that storm and devastated by uprisings. Some villages were lucky, and had escaped having uprisings. Others were as bad or as worse as what they had left behind all those years ago.   
But there was no comfort in knowing that. They weren’t alone, but it brought only sadness, to know what others had been through. 

It would take many years before Samuel and Dean learned what John was doing the days and weeks he was away. He called it “hunting”. But this wasn’t the normal kind of hunting, where one went out and shot animals to eat. No, John Winchester worked with a Blood male named Robert Singer, and together they hunted for corrupt members of Blood who had not been tainted or tainted enough to be swept away from the storm; some of them had barely been live when it had passed by and therefore not tainted.  
Since John was a landen, he could go by ignored, but he could not kill the person themselves, which was why he was working with Robert, or Bobby as people called him.   
Each day John put himself in danger to rid Terreille of the taint what was still evident, even after Dorothea and Hekatha SaDiablo and their bitch-Queens had perished.

There are different shades of taint, and not everyone was tainted or tainted enough all those years ago though, and if enough strong Blood members survived, there would always be the chance of the same thing happening again.  
So when he was old enough, Dean joined his father. Samuel left; he just packed up and was gone one morning. He left a note, telling them he’d gone back to Shalador to take up a life there now that the Rose ruled.   
And so the family turned estranged. Dean followed his father’s lead, doing everything he was told to do. For at least two years, Samuel stayed in the village without any contact with his remaining family.   
Not making it easier was the fact that he fell in love with a girl who lived and worked in the village. She had moved into town not long before Samuel, and even though he had been born in the town, he had been as much of an outsider as her.  
Jessica Moore was her name, and Samuel had fallen for her almost the moment he saw her. 

But a year and a half after Samuel started being handfast with Jessica, something changed.   
He never told anyone but Dean, and that was not until weeks later, but he started having visions.   
Always the same thing, he saw Jessica with a cut in her torso, burning alive. And it wasn’t a normal fire; it was witch-fire. In the visions, Jessica died exactly like his mother had, and in the bedroom of their house.   
Samuel couldn’t understand what the vision meant, and though of it as nightmares.

A month later, Dean showed up. Their father was missing, and hadn’t been home for a few weeks. Bobby had been working another case, so John had been out there with an acquaintance Dean had never met before. John was supposed to have been away for no more than a week, and after not having heard from neither him nor his acquaintance, Dean had become worried and so he had done the only thing he could think of; he went to his brother.   
The brothers went off to search for their father, and the search would take them months with very few clues. It looked like their father didn’t want to be found, but the brothers were set on the task; Dean because he wanted to know what was going on, and Samuel because he wanted to go home to Jessica.

Samuel took a break from searching after a couple of weeks and went home.   
Jessica would normally have been at home at the time Samuel returned, but there had been a batch of freshly baked cookies on the counter, so he had assumed she had just gone outside for a little while.  
Exhausted after the trip, had lain down on the bed.   
He had felt a sudden flare of heat, so he had risen looking for the source.

Through the open door, he had seen Jessica in the kitchen. She was on fire, but there had been no logical explanation as to where the flames had come from.  
Then he’d seen it; witch-fire. Just like in the visions he’d had for the past two months.   
Frozen in fright, he had seen her burn, no sound escaping from her mouth as the flames continued to devour her. Even frozen in shock, Samuel had known there was no point in trying to put out the flames; witch-fire burns for as long as the creator wants it, or until the reservoir fuelling it was empty. 

Samuel had stared, not knowing it had been a vision, nightmare or reality.  
So frozen had he been, that he hadn’t noticed that the witch-fire had been spread and had been starting to light the cottage itself on fire.   
He too might have died had it not been for the impeccable timing of Dean.

So they had left the town again, under much the same circumstances as the first time.   
And they had gone back to search for their father.  
They found him two months later. And so they learned why he had left for weeks on an end, without saying anything to Dean.

During the years they had been moving around, John had come to realize Mary had not been the only one to die as she had. There had been others, in other landen villages.   
It was one member of the Blood whom had done it. Bobby had been with him to check out several of the villages they had lived in where the same or something similar had occurred, and each place had held the same psychic residue as their home in Shalador. There was also the smell of something dead, something that smelled like rotten flesh.  
John had come to realize there was a pattern to it, and started working with Bobby and Ash to figure out where the monster would appear next.   
Ash had been really smart, although he never looked like it, and quickly worked out where it would appear next.

They had been too late to stop it. They had not been far behind it, but too far to do something.  
Samuel and Dean had managed to save the next one though. Since the brothers had learned the pattern as well, they had both known what to look out for. Samuel had found the next family of victims when he had been out walking in a village they had been staying in whilst waiting for Ash to figure out the next place.  
He had seen a young woman with her small child out taking a stroll and offered to help her carry the stuff she had bought at the market back home.   
Being kind, he had asked the woman how old her child was, and learned it was six months old that day. Samuel had excused himself as soon as he could without being rude, and returned to tell the others about his discovery.   
He had saved the child that night with Dean. The house still burned down from the with-fire, but the family had been saved. 

Ash had gone back to the Roadhouse after their victory, and Samuel and Dean helped their father and Bobby.   
Until John disappeared once again.  
The brothers found him, kidnapped by a group of Opal Jeweled Blood. Then they had realized what the smell of rotten meat meant; demon-dead.   
All the attacks and murders had been done by the same demon-dead leader, and he’d retaliated by doing this.  
The boys had managed to get away with their dad, but it had been a close call. 

They holed up in a cabin, thinking they were safe. They had been wrong. The leader of the demon-dead had come and he attacked them; almost killing John, and hurting Dean and Samuel severely.   
They won. It was close, but they won. Had it not been for the shields Bobby had arranged for them to wear, it would have ended quite differently. 

As the least hurt of them, Samuel had hustled them into their horse-drawn carriage; the horses still connected to it, and set off for the nearest village with a healer, barely able to control the carriage due to his own damages.   
They had been attacked on the way; a horseless carriage with a demon-dead driver had rammed into them from the front, leaving the family unconscious, but not before Samuel had managed to kill the driver.

**Author's Note:**

> For my wonderful, lovely Shadow, whom I blame/thank for this story  
> It's all your bloody fault


End file.
